


The Thinnest of Threads

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temple Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: The Temple of Springtime was thought to be a new beginning for the barren wasteland the civil war had left Chorus.In reality, once activated it causes a plethora of trouble for Blues when it incapacitates Red Team in the most headache inducing way.





	The Thinnest of Threads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geeze, this will be my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, so if I ever take too long to upload please take my apology in advance.
> 
> With that said I hope you enjoy it!

“The Reds have been in there for way too long. Are we sure that they didn’t fuck up the mission already?” Tucker shot Wash a look as they both waited outside of what they had been told was the ‘Temple of Springtime.’

Kimball had given them the mission to check out if the temple was really all it sounded cracked up to be. The civil war had left most of Chorus barren of almost all edible livestock and the soldiers had been living off of pre-made MRE’s and whatever food they could find on the shelves of destroyed settlements. If this temple could really bring about the revival of plant life on Chorus like they thought it could then things could start to look up for the people of Chorus.

But as of right now, they had sent the Reds in _two hours ago_  and there had been radio silence on their end for about thirty minutes. Wash had been starting to get antsy when Tucker spoke up.

“I will… admit that it is a little concerning how long they’re taking.” Wash looked at the top of his HUD only to see that he still hadn’t received any messages from any of the Reds. At this point, it was starting to get a little ridiculous and they would have to be required to go in and get them.

“No shit, Wash,” Tucker had definitely rolled his eyes behind his helmet- Wash could just _sense_  it. “What the hell could they be doing in there? What’s so hard about going in and checking if the damn thing could actually do what it’s supposed to? It’s that simple!”

“If I knew I certainly wouldn’t be as concerned as I am right now, Tucker,” Wash huffed out. It took another minute of absolute silence from the Reds before Wash turned to Tucker and jutted his head towards the entrance of the temple. “Go in there and figure out what’s wrong.”

“What!” Tucker exclaimed. “Why the hell do I have to go in there? Why can’t you do it?!”

Wash straightened himself out before looking down at Tucker. “ _I_  will be out here making sure the temple isn’t ambushed by any of the pirates. That means you have to go in there and get them,” he commanded.

Tucker mimicked Wash and straightened himself out as well. He met Wash’s gaze, but after a few seconds of this, he realized that Wash wouldn’t relent. He hunched his shoulders and groaned loudly. “This is bullshit,” he proclaimed when he got up. “Absolute bullshit.”

Despite his complaining, he walked towards the entrance of the temple, flipping Wash off as he did so.

Wash heard the familiar crackle of their shared radio channel coming to life and Tucker’s, “Yo Reds, what the hell is making you take so long?”

Silenced followed from the Reds end until Wash heard a crash from somewhere inside the temple itself. Tucker’s voice suddenly came to life on the radio with a surprised, “What the fuck?”

Through Tucker's radio Wash could hear what sounded like a war cry and what was definitely Tucker screaming.

Panicked Wash switched on his own radio. “Tucker what the hell is going on in there!”

When there was no reply other than a pained shout from Tucker, Wash abandoned his post and ran straight into the temple.

Wash had been prepared to face off against a group of pirates that had managed to take him and the Reds by surprise. He was expecting a fight.

He was not expecting to have an orange helmet thrown at him followed by a shotgun blast. He had been able to avoid getting hurt only by the fact that _Sarge had been preoccupied pinning Tucker beneath his boot._

What the hell.

Minding to keep his distance, Wash edged closer to Sarge and Tucker. From out of nowhere another piece of armor was thrown at him, hitting him squarely on his chest plate. “Sarge, what the hell are you doing? Why are you pinning Tucker down?”

“Wash he’s finally succumbed to his dementia- OW!” Tucker exclaimed as Sarge hit him with the butt of his shotgun. Wash flinched forward but stopped himself from doing something drastic. Sarge was his friend and clearly, _something_  was going on.

This time Wash caught the pauldron as it was thrown at him, casually throwing it to the side. From what he could tell it was being thrown at him from behind one of the pillars decorating the temple. He abandoned focusing too much on whoever was throwing them in favor of the current problem that was Sarge.

“Maybe we should all just calm-” Wash started to say before Sarge interrupted him with a bark of laughter.

“Listen here, dirtbag,” Sarge growled. “I think you and your ‘friend’ should just surrender yourselves before I’m forced to take you both down.”

“What?” Wash sputtered. “Sarge, we’ve been _over_  this; the Reds and Blues haven’t fought against each other in years. We’re your _friends_ ,” Wash emphasized.

“I don’t see what colors have to do with anything,” Sarge said as he raised his shotgun at Wash. “All I know is that you’re not my friend which makes you the _enemy_!”

“You’re not making any sense,” Wash kept his grip on his rifle, but didn’t raise it yet. Tucker had been surprisingly silent but that seemed to be a good thing in his case. “Why would we be your enemy?”

“Tch, as if you don’t know,” Sarge shook his head before directing his focus back at Wash. “It’s one thing to kidnap a soldier for your illegal experiments, but children?! You’re despicable!”

“C-children?!” Wash screeched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sarge cocked his shotgun and aimed it at Wash’s head, “It doesn’t suit you evil mastermind types.”

“I don’t have time for this, Sarge let go of Tucker now,” Wash took a step towards Sarge and finally raised his own gun. “This isn’t up for debate.”

Sarge growled loudly as his finger inched towards the trigger, but Wash noticed that he hesitated and lifted his head up slightly. Distantly behind him, Wash could hear the slight patter of footsteps trying to be discreet. It wasn’t the sound of armored boots but rather the sound of bare feet on concrete.

Sarge still hadn’t fired a shotgun shell into Wash’s head, but Wash had the distinct feeling that it had to do with whoever was behind him.

Quickly Wash whirled around and grabbed the person behind him in a headlock.

Only, Wash had to pick up the person to do it and that they weren’t an adult and that in reality, they were a _small child_. A child that was now struggling against the hold that Wash had on him.

The child couldn’t have been more than ten, and yet here they were; in a temple wearing a scrunched up, distinctly _orange_  bodysuit with dark skin and brown eyes and-

“Holy shit,” Wash breathed out. Was- was he holding a kid who might be-

Wash heard the sound of a safety being _clicked_  off and turned around to see Sarge now holding Tucker in a similar headlock and holding a pistol to his head.

“Well shit,” Tucker choked out before Sarge tightened his hold on him.

The kid suddenly stopped struggling in his arms and turned around in Wash’s grasp to look up at him with wide eyes. Wash only glanced down at him before refocusing his attention back on Sarge.

Both he and Sarge stood still, keeping their grip tight on the kid and Tucker respectively. It seemed like no one was going to speak up (or make demands because at this point it was starting to look like a damned hostage situation) when Tucker barked out, “Come on, somebody say something!”

Suddenly like a flash, another child ran out from an entrance to a corridor wearing nothing but _laced boxers_  followed by a slightly smaller Simmons wearing only the bottom half of his armor, chasing after the kid.

“Get back here you little shit,” Simmons growled as he caught up to the kid and awkwardly grabbed him, struggling to keep him still. All the while the kid was laughing; completely oblivious to the growing tension in the room the room that was so thick you could cut it with a goddamned knife.

“What did I tell you about making sure he stayed away,” Sarge barked out to Simmons.

Simmons rolled his eyes and blew some hair away from his face. “Not my fault he couldn’t sit still, old man.”

Sarge growled at him but kept his hold on Tucker just as tight, unlike Wash who let his hold on the first kid go lax at the blatant disrespect that Simmons was showing Sarge. Seeing his chance, the kid kicked at Wash’s chest causing him to release him and let the kid fall to the ground. The kid got up and scampered over to Sarge, hiding behind his back quicker than Wash could grab him again.

Sarge looked back at the kid before looking back at Simmons. “Don’t just stand there, apprehend him!”

Simmons scoffed before readjusting his grip on the second kid. “How am _I_  supposed to overpower Mr. _Power_  Armor over there? Honestly, are you as crazy as you are old?”

Sarge muttered out a small, “have to do everything myself” before releasing Tucker to pistol whip him. “Fuck!” Tucker said as he collapsed to the floor, Sarge side stepping him on his way over to Wash.

Immediately Wash rushed into action to stop Sarge and check up on Tucker but was stopped when he was once again struck by a piece of armor. Looking over he saw the first kid by a pile of assorted color armor, grasping a piece in his hands before he threw it at Wash once more.

That brief moment of distraction had allowed Sarge to reach Wash and aim his shotgun at him, firing a shell directly to the back if his head.

* * *

 

Wash could feel a pressure building up behind his eyes, and he was one hundred percent sure that it wasn’t from being shot at by Sarge. Wash was lucky that Sarge’s shotgun just happened to be loaded with blanks (although he was sure that Sarge himself had also been aware of this) because if otherwise, things would have gone from bad to worse.

 _Apparently_ , Sarge had tied up both him and Tucker to separate pillars that were across from each other and _apparently_  he had felt the need to remove both of their helmets.  


Out of everything he has had to deal with so far, this was what finally tipped Wash off that today was going to be _one of those days._

Standing next to his pillar was Simmons who had his back slouched and a scowl etched onto his face. Now that Wash wasn’t focusing on not getting _himself or Tucker shot by Sarge_  he could finally focus on figuring out what the _hell_  had happened to Red Team.

Looking at Simmons closely, it was obvious that _something_  had happened. The glaringly obvious was the lack of cybernetic enhancements from his lean body. But the more subtle was the change in hair style and the way that he seemed awkward in his own body as if he was a teenager who just experienced a massive growth spurt.

Seeing as there were two possible child Reds running around, Wash was sure that he hadn’t missed the mark on that observation.

Wash could hear Sarge muttering as he searched the temple looking for… something. The second child was nowhere to be seen, but the first was talking animatedly with Tucker. Wash tried to tune into their conversation from where he was tied up (and these were expertly done knots; whoever did them really knew what they were doing) but after a few seconds gave up.

He did, however, hear Tucker clearly when he snarked, “Never thought I’d see you with hair that short.”

And he heard the kid’s response crystal clear, “I never thought I’d see a man as ugly as you outside of the circus.”

Wash tried not to pay attention to that last detail.

There were a few more sounds of clutter being knocked away before Sarge called out, “Son, you better get your keister in here and help me out!”

Simmons groaned loudly but didn’t move from his spot.

“How do you know he’s talking about you?” Wash piped up. It didn’t look like Simmons was the type to use aggression to keep a ‘prisoner’ quiet, no matter what frame of mind he was in at the moment.

“Oh trust me, it’s all in the tone,” Simmons muttered darkly. Glancing to the side at Wash he straightened out his back before cupping his hands around his mouth. “In your old age did you forget that the prisoner needs to be watched?” He called back.

The first kids head perked up and he whirled around towards Wash and Simmons. “I can watch him for you!”

Simmons raised a single eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders. “Knock yourself out, kid.” With that said he meandered over towards Sarge’s position.

The kid smiled and started happily moving towards Wash when Tucker called out, “Oh come on man, really? Who’s gonna watch me so _I_  don’t escape.”

The kid paused and side-eyed Tucker, his eyes roaming over his body before he happily replied, “I don’t think we’ll need anyone to watch over you; you’re clearly not going anywhere.” Tucker gaped at the kid while he continued. “Besides, he’s clearly the cooler one.”

“That’s cold, Grif,” Tucker muttered.

The kid turned around and sauntered up to Wash, looking down at him. Any apprehension he might have had from Wash holding him in a headlock was practically non-existent as the kid came close to his face.

With inquisitive eyes, the kid grabbed Wash’s face with his two pudgy hands and turned his head this way and that. Seemingly proud of what he observed, he let go of Wash’s face to announce, “You’d look much cooler with a beard.”

Wash’s mouth opened slightly as he processed that, while on the other side of the room Tucker called out, “What if I grew a beard?”

“Then you would fit in much better at the circus!” The kid called back.

Goddamn it this kid really was Grif, wasn’t he?

Unlike Simmons, who’s… _age reversal_  was nearly unnoticeable if you didn’t know him well, the same couldn’t have been said with Grif. Grif’s bodysuit had been rolled up to his elbows and knees to accommodate his new size, but it was still too big on him; the sleeves would sink down and he’d have to roll them up again.

Just like Simmons, Grif had no noticeable marks from the surgery they had years ago. His face was not marred with scars and was completely unblemished; radiating youth.

With an unfortunate realization, Wash sighed deeply as he was _forced_  to acknowledge the fact that the second kid was, in fact, a very, _very_  young Donut wearing nothing except his undergarments.

As if this day wasn’t torture enough.

Grif poked Wash’s cheek to break him out of his thoughts, demanding attention in the only way kids new best.

With questions.

“How’d you get those scars?” The scar on his chin got poked along with the one cutting across his forehead. “What are you wearing, it looks really cool and it’s exactly like the one Mr. Sarge is wearing!” Small hands grasped at his chest plate. “Are you with those bad guys Mr. Sarge had been talking about?” A hand lightly grasped his hair. “How come your hair is already looking gray? How old are you? You can’t be more than at least twenty-”

“Why don’t we play a game,” Wash cut him off. Seeing that he had Grif’s full attention, Wash tried giving off what he hoped was a friendly smile. “You can ask a question and I’ll answer it, but in return, I get to ask a question and you have to answer it. Deal?”

Grif seemed to think it over before nodding to himself and patting Wash’s cheek. “Deal.”

With his luck he could hopefully distract Grif long enough that Tucker could try to reach his sword, or long enough that Carolina or _someone_  would come to help them. There hadn’t been any updates to Kimball in who knows how long. Surely Kimball would send someone after them at this point.

Without waiting for Wash to respond, Grif immediately launched into his first question. “What’s your name?”

Alright, it was a simple enough question that Wash saw no harm telling the truth. “I’m David.” David was a much better alternative to saying ‘agent’ by a long shot; there was a rather large chance that calling himself an agent would either make Grif apprehensive or cause Sarge to jump to all the wrong conclusions. Thinking about his question, Wash figured that he’d start off his own questions simple as well. “You know my name, can you tell me yours?”

As if he had no concept of ‘stranger danger’ Grif chirped back, “I’m Dexter.” Which, of course, Wash already knew. But seeing as he couldn’t just call him Grif, he’d go along with whatever the kid told him. “Are you really a part of an organization that kidnapped me to steal my brain for your own purposes?”

Grif certainly wasn’t pulling any of his verbal punches. At least it was a good way to firmly establish that Wash didn’t want to hurt any of them. “No,” he firmly said.

“We wouldn’t want _yours_  anyways,” called out Tucker.

Thankfully Grif ignored him, only narrowing his eyes slightly. Before Tucker could say anything else Wash spoke up. “How old are you?”

“I recently turned ten,” Grif said as he adjusted one of the sleeves of his bodysuit. “Where are we?” he tentatively asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Wash answered earnestly.

Grif seemed to mull that over slightly but shook his head. “We had a deal.”

“Right now we’re on the planet of Chorus.” Wash watched as Grif’s eyes widened slightly but he must have taken it for the truth as he didn’t refute it. “Ok, my turn. Why are you listening to Sarge?”

Grif quirked an eyebrow as he responded, “Because he’s an adult? You should always listen to your elders,” he recited by rote.

There was a slim chance that this could work to his advantage. “But I’m also an adult,” Wash pointed out.

Grif opened his mouth but closed it and widened his eyes.

“So you should probably listen to me when I say that you should release me and my friend, who is also an adult,” Wash explained slowly.

There were a few seconds of silence while Grif pondered this. Slowly he responded, “I’m not sure Mr. Sarge would like me to do that.”

“Probably not,” Wash agreed. “But when our friends come to get us they probably won’t like the fact that we’re tied up.”

Grif bit his lip before he shook his head and muttered a small, “I don’t want to make Mr. Sarge mad.”

Seeing the tension building up in Grif, Wash gave up and switched his tactic. He wasn’t too upset; he didn’t think that it would work anyways. “That’s understandable,” Wash reassured. “It’s your turn now.”

Grif’s eyes immediately panned towards Wash’s face again and he poked the scar on his forehead. Wash winced slightly but otherwise had no outward reaction; children had no concept of personal space. “How’d you get these scars?”

“Well I do a lot of dangerous things for work,” Wash’s eyes went towards Tucker who had been struggling against his bonds to reach his sword to no avail. Damn. Looks like they would have to wait for Kimball to send someone after all.

“What kind of work? Are you a construction worker? Do you think you’ll get more scars?” Grif asked obliviously.

“I’m sure it’s my turn now,” Wash reminded. Grif scowled but didn’t argue. “Do you have any idea on how you got her-”

A loud crash, followed by gun shots, resounded throughout the temple, causing Grif to jump away from Wash, eyes darting towards the entrance before darting back to Wash. Suddenly he ran off to somewhere behind Wash.

Wash could recognize the voice of Carolina (thank God they sent _her_ ) yelling at Sarge as well as the sounds of some of the lieutenants.

The rope around Wash went limp, surprising him, but he didn’t have to wonder long when Grif returned to view holding the knife that Sarge had confiscated from him. Wash didn’t waste any time getting out of the bonds and stood up. Grif held the knife out to him, looking to the side. The second that Wash took the knife, he took off in the direction of the commotion.

Wash didn’t ponder it a second longer, closing the distance between him and Tucker. Tucker smirked at him as he undid his bonds. Wash held out a hand that Tucker grabbed, pulling him up.

“Fucking finally; I was beginning to think that Carolina would _never_  come and we’d be stuck with a crazed Sarge for the rest of our lives.” Tucker rolled his shoulders, before looking at the knife in Wash’s hand. “So it actually helped that you talked to Grif after all, huh?”

Wash rolled his eyes before stowing away his knife and looking for their guns. Behind the pillars, he could see a structure that their rifles were on top of. Walking over he grabbed both of them, handing one to Tucker. From the sounds of it, it’d seemed like Carolina had fully apprehended the Reds, not that he had expected any less from her. “Let’s go.”

The second they walked into the room, multiple sets of eyes latched onto them. Sarge noticed that they were unbound and had their weapons, causing him to immediately growl. Someone must have taken off his helmet because now Wash could tell that he too must have become younger. By how much… Wash just _couldn’t tell._

Wash heard Tucker breathe out a little, “Thank fucking god there’s no Palomo,” at seeing Andersmith and Bitters standing behind Sarge and Simmons, with guns aimed at their backs. Simmons was completely lax, not putting up any resistance while Sarge had anger rolling off his body in waves.

Donut and Grif stood next to each other, having no one behind them seeing as they were, after all, the _youngest_  of the Reds now. Grif’s eyes landed on him and when he looked at Tucker his face was pinched, radiating annoyance.

Carolina stood in front of them all, and Wash could just tell him she was as confused as he felt. She turned around and faced the two of them.

“Wash, I have few _questions_  that I want answers to,” Carolina said as patiently as she could.

“If I knew any answers, I’d tell you boss, but I have as many questions as you do.” Wash walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “We should just bring them back to Kimball if anything Dr. Gray might know what to do.”

“Well she better,” Carolina said tightly. She turned around sharply and waved a hand at the Lieutenants. “Let’s get a move on boys.”

Clearly recognizing a change in command, Grif walked after her, pulling a happy Donut. Andersmith and Bitters had to nudge Sarge and Simmons along. Sarge moved stiffly, only complying by necessity while Simmons dragged his feet on the ground.

“Tucker,” Carolina called out. “Find all the missing armor and bring it to the jeep. We can’t leave any of it.”

“What?” Tucker started to complain. “Why can’t literally anyone else fucking do it?”

Wash turned to look at him and smiled. “It’s either you get the armor now or I make you run fifty laps at training tomorrow.”

Tucker glared at him and made to complain but Wash cut him off, “or maybe a hundred laps.”

Tucker closed his mouth with a resounding snap before turning around and stalking off to find the armor of not just Grif, Simmons, and Donut but also both his and Wash’s helmets, grumbling the entire time.

“This is an absolute disaster,” Carolina muttered beside him.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Wash said.

He could only hope that Gray would have an idea of how to fix this mess.

* * *

 

“Oh, I have no idea how to fix this,” Grey said cheerfully after having thoroughly examining the Reds. “It’s actually quite fascinating really, who would have thought that the temple would do this?”

There was a series of groans and Wash could hear Tucker distinctly banging his head against a wall behind him.

God fucking damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone was giving me such trouble with this chapter ugh, next chapter will hopefully be out sometime soon. I'm gonna try my best to get it out next Monday.
> 
> With that said, he's a part I had to completely edit out because I just couldn't add it in for the life of me.
> 
>  
> 
> _"Tucker straightened himself out as well and met Wash's gaze, but after seeing that Wash wouldn't relent he dropped his form, bent backward and groaned loudly"_
> 
>  
> 
> I don't think I need to explain why I edited it out...


End file.
